


Wedding Bells

by Syrum



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, cake eating, let them eat cake, sensual eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3688380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt from anon: ‘I just really need Cullrian where Dorian and Cullen are eating cake for some reason and they’re feeding each other and giggling when someone makes a wedding joke and they both just stare at each other‘</p>
<p>Well, why CAN'T we have a Skyhold marriage?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wedding Bells

It was a rare occasion where the inhabitants of Skyhold had anything sweet to eat, aside from the ever-available preserves and the season specific fruits they had access to. Not because sweet treats were a rarity, but simply because the elaborate goods shipped over to them from Orlais were simply not designed to survive such a long journey, and were often inedible once they finally reached the castle atop the mountain. The Inquisitor would politely, and without mention of the mould-ridden goods, write a note of thanks for each and every delivery that arrived, and what had started as initial disappointment became something of a resigned acceptance as the months wore on and more cakes and treats were added to the compost pile for the rose garden.

So it was, with some level of excitement, that word got around about an Orlesian chef having arrived at the stronghold, courtesy of one of their more staunch supporters, who had orders to remain working for the Inquisition for the foreseeable future and who had specialised in pastry. The excited murmurs became a barrage of requests once word got out that this particular chef had, in fact, baked the wedding cakes for half the nobility in Orlais and was widely regarded as one of the best sweet chefs in Thedas.

Cullen was never really one for cake. He liked the odd slice of bread with jam, to smother whatever sweet craving he had at the time, but cakes themselves were a bit of a mystery to him. His family weren’t the most well off, and his mother thought it best to spend what coin they had on more practical uses, a trait she had passed on to her son.

Dorian, on the other hand, adored cake. It reminded him of being a child, of birthday parties where friends truly were friends and not some political match or favour-grabbing nonsense. It reminded him of a time when both his parents loved him very much, when he could still make his father proud and his mother had still been able to pick him up for a perfectly rehearsed and yet no less loving cuddle. Life was simpler, back then, full of sticky fingers and laughter, of hide and seek in the gardens and eating so much chocolate it threatened to make him sick.

So when news filtered up to the library that the Orlesian chef had baked a large and elaborate chocolate cake in honour of the Inquisitor’s birthday, he paused only long enough to return the book he was leafing through to the top of the pile, before striding off to locate Cullen with the intentions of dragging him to the dining hall.

Frustratingly, though not unexpectedly, Dorian had to wait several hours for the planned feast to start, never mind the unveiling of the cake. Wait he did though, initially in the Commander’s office doing a very good job of distracting Cullen from his work, and then in the dining hall, earning confused looks from the staff who were trying to set up the long tables with their overly complicated decorations. Cullen simply laughed, one hand around the mage’s waist the entire time, taking it upon himself to oversee the arrangements once it was clear that they would not be leaving any time soon, which considering Josephine’s suspicious absence was a relief for the staff.

Dorian barely ate any dinner himself, bouncing slightly in his seat like an overly excited child until his motions drew a crude comment from Bull, which in turn earned a glare and a possessive arm from Cullen, the Qunari backing off with a chuckle. Cullen himself ate as he normally would, which would have left little room for dessert if not for the pointed look he received from Dorian upon reaching for yet another chicken leg. He was certain he heard a mumbled ‘whipped’ from further down the table, likely from one of his own men, but ignored it for the moment. He would teach them the meaning of whipped at their next training session, there was no doubt about that.

Finally, far too long after the initial excitement had started, the utterly enormous cake was brought out to many appreciative noises from the gathered diners. Dignitaries from across Thedas had joined the Inquisitor for a birthday celebration to be remembered, along with almost everyone who would ordinarily be stationed within Skyhold, and a host of visitors besides. The room was crowded and noisy, but Dorian was close enough to the cake that he would be able to wrangle himself a sizeable piece, and for that he was more than a little pleased.

Cullen simply stared at the large wedge of brown sponge and goo that sat upon a plate before Dorian. The mage was grinning from ear to ear, happier than any had seen him before, and when he turned that happy smile to Cullen the blonde could not help but smile back. Grabbing a fork, Dorian pressed the prongs into the cake, soft layers and chocolate frosting easily giving way beneath the metal. He held it up to Cullen’s lips, looking almost hopeful, and the Commander parted them obediently, taking the small piece into his mouth and letting the flavour wash over his tongue.

“Good?” Dorian asked softly, sliding the fork free, earning a nod from his lover. Cullen, in turn, curled his fingers around the fork to take it from the mage, cutting off a section of cake a little larger than the one Dorian had offered him, repeating the process to that they both might have a taste of the slightly bitter chocolatey delight. 

The noise Dorian made upon tasting the cake was downright sinful, and it went straight to the front of Cullen’s breeches. They sat hip to hip, close enough that none might mistake them for anything other than lovers, and while their positions drew little more than curious glances the vibrating moan from Dorian’s throat was loud enough that several who were seated nearby shuffled away in discomfort. Cullen, despite the flush that spread across his cheeks, paid them no mind and happily handed over the fork so that Dorian might place another tasty morsel in his mouth. He chuckled softly to himself, the fork going back and forth between them, unaware of the sheer amount of attention they were garnering from the gathered guests.

“I was not aware that we were also celebrating a wedding?” An Orlesian woman, speaking rather louder than she perhaps intended, drew their attention away from the cake. The fork still hung rather precariously from Cullen’s mouth, and the segment of cake remained unchewed upon his tongue as two pairs of eyes snapped to the woman, a Comtesse of some standing, seated across from them beside Cassandra, who appeared to be both irritated and impossibly amused by their antics.

“It is an Orlesian tradition,” The Seeker began slowly, keeping her voice low so that they might not attract further attention, for the moment at least. “For the married parties to feed one another with a fork blessed by a revered mother following the ceremony. Cake is typically used, but anything that can be sliced can be substituted.”

Any attempt to keep attentions focussed elsewhere failed the instant the words left her mouth. With an undignified squawk and a face the colour of the crimson drapes at the windows, Cullen stood from his seat. His eyes were wide in shock and the fork clattered to the table, the room growing silent as he all but fled from his seat. Dorian made to follow shortly after, struggling to contain his amusement, before having second thoughts and procuring a second slice of cake to take with him. All eyes watched the Tevinter mage strut across the floor and through the giant double doors, slice of cake balanced upon a silver plate in one hand and the fork in the other, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“They are not married?” The confused noble asked Cassandra, who sighed and shook her head.

“They might as well be.” Varric piped up from beside the now-empty seats, grinning to himself and scribbling something near-illegible down onto a leaf of parchment he had pulled from somewhere, giving the Seeker a fairly good idea as to what his next novel might be based upon.

“ _Married!_ ” Dorian had found Cullen perched upon the edge of the bed they shared, looking utterly mortified.

“You don’t like the idea of being tied to me permanently, then?” The mage asked softly as he sat himself beside the blonde, cake and fork having been carefully placed atop the bedside cabinet.

“That’s not it, I just-” The blonde let his head fall into his hands, for little other reason than to hide the still-present blush.

“It is entirely too easy to embarrass you, amatus.” Dorian chuckled, nipping at his lover’s earlobe and earning a small squeak for the effort. “I brought more cake?”

“I don’t think I can eat more.” Cullen replied with a lop-sided smile, finally looking up at the man beside him. “Though, if we _do_ ever tie the knot, I wouldn’t be entirely against that cake-eating ceremony thing. To appease the Orlesians, of course.”

“Of course.” The mage chuckled, pushing his lover back on the bed so he might straddle his hips. “And what do you mean ‘if’?”

“I thought ‘when’ might sound too forward?” He stammered slightly, though to his credit the blush did not deepen further, much to Dorian’s disappointment. “I didn’t want to assume.”

“Assume away, mi amatus. I quite like the idea of taking you as my husband, particularly if more of that delicious cake is involved.”

“You’d marry me to get more cake?” Cullen laughed aloud, looping his arms around Dorian’s neck and pulling him down for a tender kiss.

“I’d marry you to keep you as my own. The cake is simply a bonus.” The mage huffed, moving down to nip at Cullen’s neck. “And what about you? No qualms about being wed to a Tevinter mage?”

“None at all.” The ex-Templar sighed softly, wriggling a little as gentle hands ran up his sides, the mouth upon his throat stilling for a moment. “I love you, Dorian. Nothing else matters.”

“Then will you?” He pulled back to stare down at Cullen, who blinked up at him in confusion, brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Marry me.”

“You’re asking now?”

“I see no better occasion forthcoming.”

“Of course I will.” Impossibly deep brown eyes stared up at him as Cullen’s mouth split into a wide smile. Maker, Dorian thought to himself as he pinned his lover to the sheets and ravished him senseless, how he loved this man.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to prompt me, by tumblr is syrum.tumblr.com


End file.
